


Your hand in mine.

by Spac3Godzillas



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spac3Godzillas/pseuds/Spac3Godzillas
Summary: What happened the evening after the apocalypse was averted. An angel and a demon got drunk and realised feelings that had been there all along.





	Your hand in mine.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still very very FERAL about Good Omens. Also after writing this, I lay outside for three hours listening to Hozier and thinking about these 6,000-year-old fools.

‘You can stay at my place if you like.’ 

***

From the moment they had left the airbase, Aziraphale had sensed nothing but love, much like he had the day he and Crowley had visited what had formerly been an order of chattering nuns. When he had arrived earlier that day to help prevent Armageddon, the feeling had been muted slightly; however, it did occasionally spike which caught him off guard, given that love was, presumably, not the emotion that those involved were feeling. 

The feeling continued to surround them as he and Crowley found themselves sitting together in the small town of Tadfield, which had almost found itself the centre of a long-awaited war between heaven and hell, as they shared what he hoped was the first of many bottles of wine. Until they boarded the Oxford bus that, due to some slight demonic intervention, was not heading to its set destination any time soon. Even as he thoughtlessly slipped his hand into Crowley’s, where he planned on keeping it for the entirety of the journey to London. His hand was large and warm, and it was a welcome comfort. Tadfield itself had always been shrouded in the feeling of love. In the village It was inescapable, overwhelming but not unpleasant, it was after all the feeling of love. 

It was a feeling which Aziraphale found himself experiencing now, as the bus sped out of the village and towards London. His hand still in Crowley’s own as the demon slumped tiredly in the seat beside him, he found his thoughts wandering away from the events of the past few hours, instead acknowledging that there was currently, on earth or elsewhere, nowhere he’d rather be than where he was, sitting lazily beside Crowley. In fact, it was somewhere he wished he’d been all along if only he’d had the courage for it. He really should not have needed an almost war as he had, after all, had 6,000 years to make what humans he had found referred to as ‘a move’ towards Crowley.  
  
‘I think I might just take you up on that offer. To stay at your flat.’ he said softly in an attempt to not startle Crowley, which he ended up doing, causing him to shift slightly. The movement caused the warmth from leaning just a little too close to withdraw and Aziraphale missed it immediately. ‘If it’s still okay that is. I’d rather not have to see what state the bookshop is in after the day we’ve had.’ 

'It’s fine, no problem, Angel. You can stay as long as you need to.' Crowley replied as he faced away from Aziraphale in order to look out the bus window once again, his expression unreadable. As he did the angel was glad to find that he also sunk back into the position he had been in, comfortably pressed against Aziraphale's side with their hands still intertwined between them.

*

Crowley’s apartment was everything Aziraphale had expected it to be; expensive, modern, and rather devoid of anything that signalled it was a space of living. Shockingly the vastness of Crowley’s apartment reminded him of heaven, with its unbearable emptiness. However, Crowley’s flat, unlike heaven, was decorated with a small scattering of furniture, mainly grey and black, enclosed in high concrete walls which helped the flat ooze unwelcoming energy. Aziraphale wondered how Crowley could stand feeling so isolated in a place that he surely considered his home, having stayed in it for as long as he had.  
  
They had dropped hands as the bus arrived outside Crowley’s apartment, and as they both stood to get off Aziraphale found himself missing the comfort of the demon's hand in his own. Especially now as he followed Crowley from room to room; sitting room, kitchen, bathroom, study and finally the bedroom, showing Aziraphale where everything was. He had stayed silent throughout Crowley’s tour, wringing his hands together in a habit of awkwardness and slight unease. He and Crowley eventually made their way back through to the sitting room where the high ceilings loomed over them both as Aziraphale made his way over to the sofa, one of only three pieces of furniture in the room, which was thankfully more comfortable than it looked. Crowley returned moments later with a bottle of wine and two glasses, setting them on the table before letting himself fall onto the sofa beside Aziraphale. 

Silence hung steadily between them before it was broken by Crowley, ‘I suppose we’ve only got a limited amount of time until heaven and hell, metaphorically speaking, come knocking on our door.’ he said, Sitting up to pour himself a glass of wine, pouring one for Aziraphale too. He stood again, beginning to pace back and forth in front of the coffee table, ‘How long do you reckon we’ve got, Angel? They’ll all be fluttering about in a right panic now given the circumstances. Hopefully, we’re at the end of a very long list of things they need to handle.’ 

‘I don’t think we’ve got long. After all, it was _your_ job. Wasn’t it? Eleven years ago; deliver the baby, bring about the end.’  
  
‘It was more of a joint effort.’ Crowley grumbled, taking something out of his pocket and dropping it in Aziraphale’s lap, ‘These are yours by the way. Thought you’d appreciate them back.’   
  
The object that Crowley had so gracefully dropped was Aziraphale’s treasured reading glasses. Something which he could easily have lived without, given that he didn’t _really_ need them, but he found them something of a comfort to have. After all, they were original and he’d had them for quite some time. Picking them up he realised the lenses were blackened slightly. Ash. The bookshop he recalled suddenly. How had he forgotten so soon that the place he had called his home was all but gone? He was glad to have his glasses back, something was better than nothing given that what Crowley had originally saved from the shop as a ‘souvenir’ was rightly Anathema’s. Sighing, he tucked the glasses in his pocket, looking up to thank Crowley he found that he was gone. Panic set in, he had hoped that they would have more time. 

He found Crowley in the hallway leading to his office, although it was more of a room in itself; a greenhouse almost. The entire space was overwhelmed with house plants, ranging in size from small ferns to some which Aziraphale was sure had no place in a London flat. There Crowley stood with a glass of wine in one hand and a rather terrified looking snake plant in the other. The rest of the luscious plants around him shook in fear, Aziraphale could feel it but they stopped as soon as he stepped forwards towards them. In turn, causing Crowley to face him, ‘Sorry, Angel. Had to go clean something, there was a stain that was _lingering,_ it was quite tough to clean. Thought I’d spare you the details, you looked rather preoccupied.’ 

‘Well, you did give me quite the fright, my Dear. I was worried it had happened already. I was afraid we’d run out of time.’

‘No need to worry. We’re still here for now and hopefully not going anywhere soon.’ Crowley said with a smile, ‘Other than back through to the sitting room. I need more wine.’ 

Aziraphale smiled in return, ‘Although we will have to address possibilities at some point. You truly did have me worried, Crowley. I was really beginning to panic all the while you were through here cleaning, what were you cleaning?’ 

‘Ligur.’ Crowley replied in a tone that suggested he didn’t know if it was best to laugh or to cry regarding the whole situation, after all, there would be hell to pay, literally. The noise he settled on was somewhere between a sigh and a hiss, relief for now, that he still had some time left and Aziraphale was there with him. Surely together they could work something out, they would manage to think their way out of it, he had few doubts about it. However, Crowley recalled there was something he needed to address, ‘There’s only one bedroom. Here, in my flat. I could always miracle up another, or there’s always the sofa.’ He could feel himself rambling on as heat rose to his face, but still, he couldn’t bring himself to stop talking. A sudden panic of his own swelled in his chest at the thought that he was making Aziraphale feel awkward. He stuttered to a halt. 

‘I really don’t mind.’ Aziraphale said turning to return to the sitting room, ‘Whatever is most convenient. We can always decide later, for now, I’d rather some more wine.’ 

Crowley followed Aziraphale through to the sitting room where glasses gradually became bottles, and the two settled into comfortable bouts of conversation. 

‘Why of all things did you decide to save my glasses, Dear?’ Aziraphale started, putting down his wine glass only to pick it up again seconds later after he had taken his reading glasses from where he had previously put them. ‘You could have grabbed anything, you really shouldn’t have. Why _did_ you run into the bookshop in the first place, Crowley? Awfully dangerous.’ He muttered the last part with such concern as if it were thought to himself he hadn’t meant to say aloud.

‘I was worried, ‘s all.’ Crowley slurred with a slight hiss, perhaps he ought to sober up he had thought to himself before quickly dismissing the notion, ‘I didn’t know at first if it was hellfire or not. For a moment I worried that the fire was intentional, that someone from downstairs had got to you and, well, I thought that you were really gone. I was terrified you were gone.’ 

‘Oh.’ Aziraphale hadn’t expected such a reply. Crowley had run into a burning building for no reason other than Aziraphale. For a demon, he certainly was the least demonic being he had ever met. ‘You know when I was discorporated, I thought I would never find you, or even see you ever again. 6,000 years, I thought, 6,000 years through thick and thin gone just like that. I had half expected you to go off, up, to the stars. I wanted to go with you. You know, my Dear, I see now how foolish I was to believe that heaven cared about anything other than winning.’

Aziraphale had moved closer to Crowley now and the demon decided it best to wrap an arm around him. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to go without you. Being among the stars wouldn’t be worth it unless you were by my side.’   
  
‘Would you have found peace amongst the stars had you gone?’   
  
‘No. I’ve already found my peace. I’ve known it for a while, it’s right here, with you.’ 

Crowley had disregarded his glasses at some point prior, around a bottle of wine ago he would guess if he had to. Which now left him staring down at Aziraphale, feeling vulnerable yet knowing that the angel would never do or say anything with the intention of harming him. Allowing himself to feel this way was something he avoided doing around others, his glasses masked his vulnerability but also what he often felt towards himself through the glares of others. Seeing the reactions of those around him to _him_ was like experiencing his fall over and over again, each time somehow more painful than the last. He had never hated himself, he had feared himself.   
  
‘You have such fire in your eyes, Crowley.’ Aziraphale had interrupted his thoughts, ‘It’s in your heart too.’ Crowley felt an unexplainable fondness for Aziraphale in such moments, there had been many he realised now, that he felt he could do nothing but hold him close. The angel radiated warmth, so much so Crowley had to fight the urge to wrap himself around him and never let go. ‘It won’t keep you warm at night, but I will.’ Aziraphale muttered softly as he leaned into Crowley's embrace. ‘Sometimes you look at me as though you hung the stars in my name.’ He was tired now, Crowley could tell. Angels don’t sleep, they have no need to, but tonight he would.   
  
‘Perhaps I did, Angel, perhaps I did.’

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr- mosshkacat.tumblr.com  
> Good Omens playlist- https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17qSO0k6ChZn9bx1z5Td60?si=QJVtnnQyRPCmX79XUXqbQQ


End file.
